


things that shimmer

by perfunit



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Barebacking, Coming Untouched, Crossdressing, Dom/sub Undertones, Hinted Praise Kink, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, jun in a skirt, slight fluff not intentional
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:13:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21857395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perfunit/pseuds/perfunit
Summary: He looks up from his lashes, a coy tone to contradict a mischievous grin. “Take me to your room?”
Relationships: Jeon Wonwoo/Wen Jun Hui | Jun
Comments: 2
Kudos: 128





	things that shimmer

**Author's Note:**

> It is up to you how they got in this situation, I just couldn’t get the image out of my system ha ha haaaa I do not write smut this is Not Good but enjoy <3

The hall is blithe with chatter and the soothing melody of an orchestra, as Wonwoo nurses his glass in silence. He is dressed sharply, suit fitted just perfectly on his broad shoulders, a flawless cut around his waist. His dark hair is brushed up neatly, lending attention, instead, to piercing eyes. He stands, blasé in posture, his face precisely the kind of handsome you would be too intimidated by to approach.

But someone does approach him. They’ve both been here a while. The first thing you would notice is the gorgeous dress; it’s colored a light blue, and it twinkled down from the hem, the little glinting stones disappearing where the satin grazed the marble floor. The long dress flutters with his steps. “There you are,” Jun says, tucking a long blond lock behind an ear. “You look great.”

Wonwoo has to pause. It’s just that he had seen Jun earlier that day, in a plain button-up, his face bare but handsome in a way that had always edged on the side of _pretty_. Still, the difference is quite startling. Now, his thin lips are painted, sleek swoops and matte gold tracing his eyes, cheeks bronzed. He is _so_ pretty. The look suits him like nothing else. Jun had always looked like something out of a fantasy novel, after all.

“You—” Wonwoo tries to say. He averts his eyes, breathing a quiet cough to dispel his own awkwardness. Wonwoo takes another sip, and as casually as he can, gets out a low, “you too.”

Jun can’t help but smile fondly at the disconnect between Wonwoo’s dapper, unattainable air and his shy demeanor. Jun hooks a shawled arm on Wonwoo’s. He looks up from his lashes, a coy tone to contradict a mischievous grin. “Take me to your room?”

* * *

“Hey,” Jun murmurs, noticing Wonwoo’s paling knuckles. He leans over, kissing at Wonwoo’s wrist. His grip on the sheets loosen in response. 

“Good?”

Wonwoo blinks up at Jun, dazed. Jun looms over him, all curled lips and short hair falling delicately over his eyebrows. It’s a bit jarring, the sudden absence of the long blond waves. His brown hair is still ruffled from where Wonwoo had been gripping earlier.

The atmosphere had been way more frenzied then, both eager just to _touch_ — the sheer want had Jun dropping to his knees and chucking the wig the very moment they had closed the door and he’d pinned Wonwoo against it. 

Now in the dim light, Wonwoo sees Jun’s make-up is mostly there and just slightly faded, enough for him to see some of his moles under the foundation. 

“Good,” Wonwoo exhales. “Good, it’s fine, come on,” he says in one suffering breath, trying and failing to keep his voice leveled. 

“If you’re sure,” Jun says, slowly withdrawing his fingers from Wonwoo’s hole, and wiping the excess lube on the sheet. Wonwoo can’t bite back the whine he lets out, deeply feeling the pronounced loss. The place Jun’s nimble fingers had gingerly teased and stretched tender flutters longingly for something bigger. 

Jun lets himself look his fill: Wonwoo on his back, legs spread for him, bow tie undone, shirt carelessly unbuttoned, blazer thrown elsewhere in the fancy hotel room. His then-tidy, gelled hair was all messed up now, his sharp eyes glazed over, and his lips bitten down to death — something born from that habit Wonwoo always had, when he would stifle his keening and small noises. 

Then, Jun moves to lift his underskirt; it was a thin white thing, barely hiding anything. It was basically see-through. Wonwoo could see Jun’s thighs flex under the skirt; could see the outline of his dick, bulging nicely against the soft fabric. With one hand, Jun holds the cloth up, and with the other, he strokes his own painfully hard length.

The relief is unmatched; Jun lets out an absolutely dirty sound. And it isn’t completely for show, not when he had really neglected his aching boner for the better part of the night, overcome with this fascination with and urge to see just how many times he could make Wonwoo’s pleasure peak before Wonwoo’d finally _need_ Jun _in_ him. 

The fingers that had previously just been in Wonwoo formed a loose circle for Jun’s dick to go through, his strokes all sloppy from the excess lube.

Wonwoo squeezes his eyes shut. He _can’t_ possibly bear the sight right now; not when he feels like a taut string pulled so tight the slightest extra tug could make it all snap. Jun pouts, a bit disappointed Wonwoo had chosen not to partake in the little display, but his eyes fall on Wonwoo’s cock filling where it’s curved and leaking on his abs, and decides he doesn’t mind. 

A pair of unshaven legs go on either side of a skirt, and Jun’s ruffled sleeves fall off his broad shoulders, revealing leftover glitter scattered across his chest. “Breathe, baby,” Jun reminds him, aligning his dick to Wonwoo’s wanting entrance. Wonwoo’s chest heaves, feeling the head nudge at his hole.

He squirms, impatience growing. Jun gets it; he starts pushing in torturously slow, watching Wonwoo intently as he does. And Wonwoo’s face scrunches, unable to repress a high-pitched moan.

It’s hard to be silent — Jun slides home inch by inch, in such a way that Wonwoo has _no_ choice but to feel the very shape of him enter him, and let himself get overwhelmed by the warmth and fullness coming to complete him. Jun slips in until his base, Wonwoo’s ass meeting his hip bones.

Jun can’t miss the pink stretch of Wonwoo’s hole, accommodating him wholly and completely. Wonwoo hisses at the burn, never quite used to it, the ache always new every time. Worriedly, Jun gently swipes a thumb around the rim where Wonwoo is enveloping him. 

Wonwoo’s dick twitches at knowledge that Jun is staring at where they’re connected. His face burns, because he knows it was less out of anything perverse and more out of concern on Jun’s part. It hurts, of course it does, but Wonwoo is quickly discovering that he likes a little bit of pain.

“Jun,” moans Wonwoo, deep with arousal.

“Hm?” Jun soothingly runs his hands down Wonwoo’s sides, giving him some time to adjust to his size.

Wonwoo wiggles his hips weakly. “Move,” he says, cheeks red. 

Jun obliges him, unhurriedly dragging himself halfway out from Wonwoo’s intimate space. The wind is taken out of him, Wonwoo’s unbelievable heat and tightness clamping down on his cock, a gratifying sensation to which he lets out a sound that makes Wonwoo shiver. 

Jun halts at the head, before driving back in and bottoming out again. Wonwoo makes a pleased noise at the back of his throat. He sounds like a different person, almost.

Jun then maintains a steady pace, his skirt bunched up and tickling at the skin. Hovering over Wonwoo, he rocks him gently with each leisurely thrust, the drag nearly agonizing.

Wonwoo’s lips quiver. Jun’s heart swells at the sight. So Jun’s nose brushes against Wonwoo’s, a reassuring thing, and it’s the latter who closes the distance. Their lips meld, Jun calmly responding to Wonwoo’s unexpectedly fevered tempo. Sometimes, Wonwoo kisses him like they’re fighting.

Wonwoo’s hands eventually find their way to Jun’s face, and how he holds his face in his hands is so kind it could make Jun cry. It’s a welcome contrast to the demanding mouth against his, which is also similarly very welcome. 

After a while, Jun has to pull back for air. He regards Wonwoo, blessed by the view of the messy smear on Wonwoo’s lips, stained bright red. 

His colored mouth gapes, as if expecting Jun to swoop back down and stain it some more. Jun loves the sight. He loves it. He loves how willingly Wonwoo always, always gives it all for him.

Like now, Wonwoo just perfectly taking and taking Jun’s thrusts — not nearly deep or fast enough for him to feel truly satisfied. It should be frustrating for Wonwoo, and yet, Wonwoo is _so_ good for him. Jun would tell him, if he wasn’t sure hearing that’d get Wonwoo to come too soon. For now, he lets Wonwoo relish in the stretch; relish in the intense, slow, and sure slide of the dick in him.

And for a while, that’s really enough. It’s seemingly all the stimulus he needs. It’s actually fucking insane how blissful it already is for Wonwoo, just to feel all filled up by Jun. But Jun shifts the angle slightly, rolling his hips as he does, and grazes the place deep in Wonwoo where he’s most sensitive. Wonwoo’s breath catches. His back arches off the bed. It’s like a trigger. 

Jun’s mouth curves into a smile, in place of saying something potentially annoying like _gotcha_ aloud. Below him, Wonwoo’s mouth forms an ‘o,’ trembling hands flying to wrap his arms around Jun’s neck as if he suddenly can’t stand _any_ distance between them. He locks his ankles behind Jun, right where the dainty skirt had been sliding down a bit.

“ _Oh_ ,” says Wonwoo, unable to articulate further — and _how_ could he possibly?

Polished nails dig into Wonwoo’s hips for purchase, and Jun _finally_ picks up his pace, the sound of flesh against flesh progressively getting filthier within the room. His movements jostle Wonwoo, oversensitizing the bundle of nerves deep in him with each purposeful thrust.

With Jun’s dick sliding in and out slick and easy, the prior resistance all but teased gone, Wonwoo’s devolved to bouncing on his dick, his disheveled hair fanned out on the sheets. Jun tries not to let it mess with his head, how Wonwoo keeps calling Jun’s name like it’s the last thing he knows in the world.

Wonwoo’s toes curl, tell-tale, and by now, Jun barely needs to pull Wonwoo’s body down on his cock; Wonwoo’s already doing a fine job on his own, hips stuttering off-rhythm to meet his thrusts, probably already on the very edge. The furrow on his eyebrows deepen, a familiar tight heat pooling in his gut. He’s _so_ close.

“Tell me I’m pretty,” Jun says. He doesn’t particularly want to hear it. He knows well enough, after all. He just wants Wonwoo to struggle a little. 

“Jun,” whimpers Wonwoo. He is so unbelievably turned on and so far gone he feels like _dying_. But his voice comes nonetheless, hoarse and hushed, “you’re so pretty.”

Oh, he’s _so_ unexpectedly obedient. Jun feels his heart skip an excited beat. It’s kind of _really_ hot. 

And he’s gotten so red, too. His dick, aching for release, red. Cheeks tinged red, warm from a delightful mix of exertion and embarrassment. Lips red from bites and Jun’s lipstick smudge. 

To Jun’s surprise, Wonwoo is able to meet his eyes this time. His eyes are dark, wanting, a little helpless. Just how Jun likes it.

“Come again?” Jun says by his ear. The warm air of his breath tickles the sensitive skin there.

When Wonwoo fails to respond (not for any stubborn reason, but to gather his bearings, Jun knows), he holds Wonwoo’s moving hips in place to grind in _deep_. “Ah,” Wonwoo keens. “Ah, ah, _ahh—_ ”

Jun doesn’t relent. His eyes seem to twinkle, and Wonwoo swears it’s not just from the curled, glossy eyelashes.

“You’re, ah, pret _ty_ ,” Wonwoo is able to say, though the last syllable disappears in a moan.

Jun smiles softly at him. “You are, too.” 

“ _No_ ,” protests Wonwoo. 

But Jun isn’t imagining it — the fluttering tightness. Wonwoo _likes_ that. He likes being called pretty — or at least by Jun.

Jun noses at Wonwoo’s neck. “Yes, you are,” He answers, with a sharp thrust that makes Wonwoo cry out. “Do you want to come?”

Wonwoo threads his long fingers in Jun’s hair, keeping him there. Jun loves the feeling. “ _Yes_ ,” Wonwoo responds, desperate and frantic. “Yes, please.”

With an exaggerated smack, Jun plants a fat kiss on the column of Wonwoo’s neck. When he rises, he sees it: a pretty shape — a kiss mark, a dark wine red to offset the tone of Wonwoo’s skin. “Okay,” Jun whispers, assenting.

Wonwoo sighs, and reaches for his flushed, weeping cock. But Jun catches his trembling hand. He laces their hands together, instead. “You can do it with just me, I know you can,” Jun says, sweetly.

It makes Wonwoo _sob_ in frustration. He’s just so close. He just wants to let go. Yet, he grips Jun’s hand all the same, and openly takes the ceaseless slams of Jun’s hips. 

It doesn’t take long. The feeling rises and rises, and Jun notices, tells Wonwoo to finally let go. It’s all he needs _—_ it arrives in a wave, nearly too intense for Wonwoo, who’d been holding back all this time. He comes with a shout, untouched, white dripping down his softening cock, and gathering on his abdomen.

Weakly, he rides out his orgasm, mindless to the undulating movement of their bodies. Jun, in awe, watches the aftershocks rack Wonwoo’s body in tiny shivers.

Wonwoo’s limbs go limp after that. The flush from his face had also spread to his chest, Jun notes. “Do you need a moment?” He asks him.

Wonwoo is breathing heavily. He shakes his head, holding his gaze. “Want you to come, too.”

“God,” Jun says, at an utter loss. “Okay.” 

So Jun doesn’t pull out yet; he hikes Wonwoo’s legs up on his shoulders, and Wonwoo gasps at the new position, the angle hitting all sorts of new places and introducing a whole new set of sensations, on top of all the post-orgasm oversensitivity. The skirt drops to the carpeted floor, and Jun is totally fine with that. It was just in the way now. 

Wonwoo helps, hugging his knees to his chest, baring the furl of his hole for Jun to thrust into in earnest. And Jun does, tempo hasty, movements unrestrained, reflective of his present state — his present, pressing need. 

He isn’t, but Wonwoo _should_ be crying — the feeling is just _too_ much, the constant snag of Jun’s dick on his sensitive walls doing absolutely everything at once.

He already came, but finds that he was still fully indulging in continuing to be taken. It felt so good it hurt. He’s so sure he’ll feel the soreness for a long while after. Honestly, he can’t wrap his mind around it. In any case, his brain is rendered goo by the cascading inputs of pleasure. None of it matters. As far as he's concerned, he exists only where Jun fucked into him.

Jun pulls out when he starts to feel his orgasm come over him, as much as it pains him to be away from the welcoming clutch of Wonwoo's insides. He nudges Wonwoo’s knees apart. 

Wonwoo gives easily, and then Jun is nestling his stiff cock between Wonwoo’s thighs, tugging on his dick to completion. In all of his muddled glory, Wonwoo manages to reach between his splayed legs, wrap his hand over where Jun’s hand is stroking, and clumsily jerk him off, too. Buzzing pleasure ripples from that point to the rest of Jun’s heated body, and Jun moans shakily, the sound of his satiated voice tethering Wonwoo to the real world. 

“ _Wonwoo_ ,” he calls, distantly. “Wonwoo—” 

He rests his forehead against Wonwoo’s, their warm breaths tangling. Wonwoo tips his head ever-so-slightly up, and leans to swallow the high sound of Jun’s climax with a deep kiss. Jun bites down on Wonwoo’s lower lip, as he spills his cum all over Wonwoo’s stomach and chest. He’d positively _ruined_ Wonwoo’s expensive dress shirt with the stuff, he’s sure. Wonwoo likely won’t be upset.

Spent, he falls back onto the bed next to Wonwoo. Wonwoo lets his breath mellow, but turns on his side to make some space for him. With a slight grimace gracing his features, Wonwoo attempts to wipe off the mess on his lips with the back of his hand. He gives up on it pretty quickly; it’s a stubbornly bold shade. 

Jun rolls over to face him, and drapes an arm over Wonwoo’s middle. Wonwoo simply lets himself be hugged, despite feeling hot all over and dead tired to his bones. Jun smiles up at him. 

Wonwoo’s face slowly mirrors the smile, albeit confusedly. “What?”

“Nothing,” says Jun. _You’re always too soft on me._

“Okay, weirdo.” It’s said fondly.

A few moments of respite is permitted them before Jun sluggishly sits up and peels off his knee-high stockings, with Wonwoo furtively watching behind him. It’s intriguing, seeing Jun slowly revert to the bare-faced, plain-shirt Jun he more often sees. 

Jun shuffles, about to get up to do whatever. He’s stopped, however, by a light touch on his wrist. He finds Wonwoo’s hand anchoring him to Wonwoo — but Wonwoo doesn’t let his touch linger; he lets his hand fall, roundabout as usual. He doesn’t _look_ at Jun. He doesn’t say, ‘ _stay’_ — not even ‘ _wait_.’ But that’s what he means. And Jun is more than glad to lie back down to appease him for a while.

_But maybe I’m too soft on you, too._


End file.
